A Game of Chance
by EtherDoc
Summary: When I first watched Season 1 of Merlin I was convinced that Arthur must know Merlin has magic. Let's give Arthur a little more credit in the smarts department, and find out why the last dragon decided Camelot should burn. Stays in canon. Takes place before S2:13, Morgana has fled with her sister and the Great Dragon flies free.
1. Chapter 1: Chance

Within the cold stone walls of the castle voices and laughter echoed down the empty dark corridors. A winding stair full of wet smells ended where the dungeon began. A rattling of dice in the cup, then more laughter. A gangly awkward youth dressed in rags sat across from a young man in shining armor. In the flickering candlelight the youth ducked his head. Dice fell onto a wooden table and his shoulders sagged with disappointment as they stopped. His companion smirked and swiped up the playing dice.

"The watch is almost over. Want to continue your losing streak at the tavern, Merlin?" Arthur asked, grinning widely.

"So you can gloat in public? No, thank you, Sire," Merlin answered. It was good to see the prince smile. The disappearance of the King's ward had weighed heavily on him. King Uther had impressed upon Arthur the responsibilities and duties of knighthood and the crown, and the shame of the losses they had suffered each day since she had disappeared. Their constant raised voices had created gossip in the courts and tension in the halls as the search went on. And still they found nothing as they scoured the lands for her. _Morgana_.

Merlin's heart clenched at the thought of her creamy skin growing cold in his arms. The life leaving her body as the poison flowed through her blood. His friend. His companion in magic.

_I should have told her._

_ I should have saved her._

_ I should have..._

"...so I insist we go," the young prince was saying. One hand rested lightly on his sword, the other drummed on the table. "Otherwise, who knows what trouble I'll get into. My _life_ could be in danger," he pressed with mock gravity.

"Well, that's all that matters then, right?" the servant quipped, rolling his eyes and standing. Arthur nodded and went to gather his things. As Merlin scooped up the dice his eyes flashed to gold. "Sic fors fortis," he whispered, and blew gently. The dice lit up and danced as if shaking with excitement. "Maybe I over did it a bit," Merlin muttered, pocketing them and chasing after his master who was already at the top of the stairs.

"You've been awfully quiet these last few weeks, Merlin," Arthur said as Merlin helped him change into more comfortable clothes. Arthur sniffed suspiciously at the tunic Merlin handed him before tossing it aside and pointing to a different one. "Anything you want to tell me about?"

_Oh, maybe that I poisoned the King's ward. Let's start with that conversation, then end it with one about magic. Yes!_

"Nope, nothing," Merlin replied. "Except that you're a prat."

"Don't be a sore loser, Merlin." And with that they left for the tavern.

A large crowd quickly gathered around them as the crown prince lost toss after toss to his manservant. The ale was flowing and so were the gold coins. Word was spreading quickly. Every number that Merlin called matched the roll of the dice. Arthur's cheeks burned red as the peasants cheered on his companion. The innkeeper slapped down two ales next to the pair. "On the house!" The crowd roared their approval as the dice showed a six.

"You've got some impressive luck, Merlin. Seven," Arthur called, rolling the dice slowly around in the wooden cup. His eyes met Merlin's as he said, "It's almost like... magic."

Time seemed to slow as the cup tipped. The lamplight flickered in Merlin's eyes, tingeing the blue with gold flecks of reflection. Arthur felt his hand jerk, startled, and dice tumbled and fell off the table. Merlin's eyes were wide pools of blue across the table.

"You bumped me!" Arthur muttered. There was laughter from the on-lookers as Arthur glared at his servant, who ducked down to grab the dice. Arthur swept the rest of his coins into the middle of table between them. He acted the part of the spoiled prince perfectly, but Merlin saw the tightness in his eyes. He hadn't used magic in that moment, but somehow Arthur suspected.

"It's like this, is it?" Merlin whispered to himself. Arthur's jaw clenched. Was it in anger, disappointment? Arthur nodded once, all seriousness, an admission of a secret that danced between them. Merlin felt his heart thud in his ears as he dropped his silver coins into the pile with Arthur's.

"Ten," Merlin called. And it was.

"Well played, Merlin." Arthur stood, magnanimously bowing and offering Merlin the pot. A shaking Merlin swept the coins into his pocket, studying the floor as the people around him cheered and pat his back. "Well played, indeed."

Merlin wondered if that was truly so.

"Come, Merlin, I'll walk you home." And Merlin had no choice but to follow. The silent streets echoed their foot fall as they walked together, side by side, in silence.

"Sire," Merlin began. The dice felt warm against his pocket, the coins weighing him down.

"Bright and early, Merlin. No excuses tomorrow. I have to train up my newest knights," Arthur interrupted.

"Arthur," Merlin tried again. He felt the prince slow his walk, then Arthur grabbed his shoulder lightly, turning him around. He looked into his friend's eyes, which were surprisingly warm, almost teasing. Merlin swallowed. "You... know."

Merlin's thoughts flashed back to his confession of sorcery as Gwen lay in the dungeons, sentenced to death for a crime she couldn't commit. How quick Arthur had been to defend him.

"Know what?" Arthur returned, his voice gentle. "I don't know anything Merlin, because you haven't _told me_ anything, have you?" There was an accusation in the question maybe, but not anger.

"I've told you all that I can, Arthur," Merlin returned. "We can't be friends, remember? You are my prince and the future king of Camelot. And your father-"

Merlin paused, his throat closing. Here was his deepest fear, moving between them. Still so secretive and silent. Merlin glanced around nervously, but the streets were empty. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, shrouding the courtyard in darkness. Out in the forest an owl screeched. And Arthur waited.

"Lying, and also cheating - two things you aren't very good at, Merlin. Well, many things you aren't good at come to mind." Arthur finally offered. Tears were streaming down Merlin's cheeks silently as he nodded. Arthur clapped him on the shoulder, then steered him into Gaius' hut. "G'nite, Merlin."

"Arthur, I'm sorry!" Merlin called into the night.

Gaius was bent over a tattered book and he didn't bother to look up as Merlin came in. A potion was bubbling over a low flame and Gaius absently stirred it as he muttered to himself. Merlin sat down heavily besides his mentor, scrubbing the tears from his eyes with a dirty sleeve.

"Merlin, what ever is the matter, dear boy?" Gaius offered. Then a little harder, "What have you done?"

Merlin studied his feet, the cooking potion, the ceiling. The room had become so familiar to him. The scents of herbs, the tiny table where they shared their meals. He took comfort in his surroundings and the friendship it represented. Then he buried his head in his hands.

"Arthur suspects I can do magic. I didn't cast any spells. Well, I did - but that was earlier and he didn't see." Merlin looked up at Gaius' pursed lips and raised eyebrows. "He just... knew. I swear. He didn't say anything, but I can tell."

"He might suspect you are capable of magic. But does he truly understand the power you hold? Who you really are?" Gaius asked.

"I don't know. Maybe he thinks that I use it for healing. We didn't really ... talk about it." The potion went ignored and started to bubble over, cascading purple liquid onto the workbench and papers. Merlin shoved supplies and herbs aside as the purple ooze hissed along the table, mopping up the mess as best he could with a discarded shirt.

"Well, make sure you keep it that way!" Gaius replied, shooing him away from the table. Gaius sighed over his lost work then turned to Merlin. "This is a dangerous development. It's too soon for him to share your secret. As long as Uther is alive you are in great peril. What will you do?"

"I don't know."

The next morning he woke with the sun. It had been a restless sleep full of twisted dreams and he was glad for the daylight. In one dream he had been burning. Merlin rubbed his arms absently and tried to gather his thoughts. Stale bread and well water made a quick breakfast as he worked his way down to the lake. He plodded through a forest full of birdsong and chill morning air until he reached the lakeside. Across the waters the tall purple mountains reached to the skies. The recent rains had left a blanket of wetness over the land, and everything seemed clean and new. The magic within him rejoiced at the natural pulses he could feel here. The ground beneath his feet reached up to support him as he walked to the water's edge.

He crouched besides the lake and his fingers brushed the surface of the water to send out ripples across it's clear and still surface. From a distance the waters of Lake Avalon looked like ice, the landscape a frozen picture in time. Merlin washed his face in the cold water and stood up. His head felt clearer and his heart a little lighter.

From over the lake the sound of faint chimes came to him. He moved closer, straining to hear. A soft bubble of light came from the mists. In it's center was a face that was familiar and beloved.

"Freya," he breathed.

"Merlin," she answered. "I am your Freya no more, but Vilia, a water spirit. I have come at your hearts call. What do you wish of me?"

"Arthur needs me, needs my magic. But I don't know how best to serve him. I need to see what the future holds for him, for us. Can you help me?"

His heartbeat slowed until it was like a slow drum in his ear. Time slowed and the sound of the chimes became clearer. The sphere before him grew in size and Freya's image was replaced with a vision the young warlock was destined to see.

Merlin witnessed a thousand battles, each bloodier than the next. Men screamed Arthur's name as they were run through with swords. The clash of steel and shield, the sound of horses whinnying and snorting with the heat of war, the stench of burning fields and dead bodies and fear. Merlin watched himself grow old in war, his magic used to push back evil but never to conquer it. Arthur died in his arms, and the fight continued with his heirs. Generations lost and made and reborn all under the banners of the Pendragon.

And there, on a hill in a lonely country, men lying dead or dying at his feet, they made their final stand against Morgana. His heart wept and then rejoiced as he struck the winning blow, his magic channeling through the sky and the earth to crash into her heart and stop it beating. She lay at his feet, a shadow of her former self, and stared into his blue eyes. "Is this what you wanted, Morgana?" he asked the dying witch. Her hand reached towards him, then life left her eyes.

The kingdom united, magic restored.

And now, with her death, a prophecy could be fulfilled.

Bells rang to announce the coming of a new age, a time of healing. The lands were scarred, but that would fade. Fields would again be harvested, and goodly kings and queens would rule the land in justice and peace. The bells rang and his heart beat, the sounds mingling in his ears until they were the same. And then there were just the chimes, their sound already fading as the sphere of light grew smaller, traveling back across the lake, and then disappeared.

_Is this a future worth fighting for? Worth Arthur dying for? Are these the visions Kilgarrah sees when he looks at me?_

"Is there no hope?" he whispered.

"You will find the answers you seek," Freya called. "Kilgarrah waits for you. Go to him."

Merlin raced across the forest floor, away from the visions of blood and death. He came to the doors that led him into tunnels of twisting rock, his torch held in front of him like a banner. He traveled deeper into the depths of Camelot. His breath came in gasps as his hands rested on the rocks. What if he'd gone? He'd seen the dark shape passing over the woods a few nights ago, hunting or perhaps just enjoying the refound freedom of flight. If the dragon was staying close to Camelot was it for him or Arthur? If only the beast would give him more answers and less riddles.

" Kilgharrah? Kilgharrah!" Out in the darkness he heard the rumbling laughter of the dragon.

"I'm still here, young warlock. I couldn't leave Camelot anymore than you could. My destiny lies here." The dragon stretched out his long neck into the light until his eyes were level with Merlin's. "Hmm, I sense a change in you."

"Arthur, he knows I have magic."

The body before him stank of smoke and ash, and the dragon's breath was hot as he snarled, "Too many times have my warnings gone unheeded! You are toying with things you do not understand." Kilgharrah shifted his great weight and rocks fell down into the darkness, bumping noisily along the walls. "The witch is gone so at least _she_ will not be a confident to Arthur's burden."

"What will he do?" Merlin asked.

"It is his destiny to rule with you by his side. But he doesn't know who he can trust - and who he can't," Kilgharrah chided.

Merlin sat down on the cold ground. The torch flickered, then went out.

"Leohtbora," Merlin chanted, and the flame was renewed. He absently played with the fire, making the flames dance higher in elaborate patterns as he thought. His golden eyes met the dragons' ancient ones. "I could make him forget."

"There is a way, but every action you choose has it's own consequences. If you do this Arthur will become blinded to your magic. His eyes will be closed to your powers until you decide to reveal them." The dragon shifted again and Merlin felt him pause.

"What aren't you telling me, Kilgharrah?" he asked the ancient beast. "I can never trust you! You're always holding something back." When the dragon didn't answer, Merlin continued, almost in a whisper. "I saw Camelot and it was burning. I saw the future." The dragon backed slowly away into the darkness.

"Knowing the future is a great responsibility. And one more thing we share."


	2. Chapter 2: The Gallows

Go down through the vaults, magic past the guards, get what he needed, escape undetected. It had seemed like a good plan until he'd been found by Arthur, Merlin mused as he hung on the bars of his cell.

"Next time you plan on treachery, have the decency to leave me some clean clothes and my armor, Merlin," Arthur had said as he slammed the cell shut. "So I don't have to go looking for it."

It was odd being imprisoned when only yesterday he'd been on the other side of these bars. And now he'd be hung for treason. Merlin let his forehead touch the cold metal.

It was better than burning, he supposed, but not by much.

"Merlin, what have you gotten yourself into!" Gauis snapped as he shoved bread through the bars and into Merlin's hands. Merlin shrugged as he ate his meal, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor.

"I have to try again. Kilgharrah isn't telling me something," Merlin said with his mouth full. "Tonight I'll try and use the Crystal of Neahtid to get some answers."

"Nonsense! You'll do nothing of the sort. Haven't you learned anything? Stay here and I'll talk to Uther, tell him you were sleep walking. That draught I gave you for your head cold can do that," Gauis said.

"What draught? I don't have a head cold!" Merlin protested.

"Yes, you do!" Gaius spat out. "Why can't you leave well enough alone? There are some things mortals were not meant to know!"

Merlin had been looking forward to a day off for as long as he could remember, and he spent it doing the things he was always wanting to do: sleeping, eating, and practicing magic. He floated a chicken dinner into his cell after distracting the guards with odd sounds coming down the hallway. He removed random bricks from the walls of his cell until he realized it was letting in cold air. Then he heated them up until he was sleepy and warm. And when the guards finally dozed off, he crept past them easily and made his way back down to the vaults.

The crystal dominated the room. It tugged at Merlin, at the magic in his blood. He could feel the way the air shifted in it's presence. As he approached the podium where it rested the hair on his arms tingled and moved. He let the cloth covering the crystal fall to the floor, then ran his fingers lightly over the glass surface. The power beneath his fingertips warmed his skin.

He sat where he was, cradling this great artifact in his worn hands. His fingernails were short and dirty from scrubbing armor, the skin calloused and rough. A servants' hands. For a moment the resentment was there, bitter and hot, but it faded as the crystal began to glow. Merlin took a deep breath, and closing his eyes he focused on the visions from the Vilia and the whirl of sadness and disappointment pounding in his chest. He held the wash of emotions tightly to his heart, amplifying them, letting the negativity permeate his skin until he was sick with it.

Then he formed an image in his mind of a perfect Camelot. A kingdom in peace, where peasants farmed lush lands and travelers came from long distances to seek an audience with a wise and kind ruler. A place that thrived and pulsed with life. And he placed this image like a veil over the bitter truth of the future. His eyes lit up with gold as he touched the crystal again.

"What must I do?" he whispered, and he felt his power move into the crystal.

The images were murky, swirling around one another uncertainly in clouds of broiling darkness. And he understood that whatever action he took made the future uncertain. There could be no clear path, only a different path of his choosing.

"No mortal..." Gaius' voice echoed in his head.

_Who am I to hold such power?_

"You are Emyrs," a voice came to him from deep within the crystal. "You will live longer than any mortal."

_I am Emyrs. _

And in yet another affirmation of his power, his reason for being, the magic flowed naturally through him. The endless threads of possibility were woven together in a delicate dance of lights. A flash and then Arthur was dying, struck down by Morgana. And she was shrieking with delite.

Gwen was kissing Lancelot as Arthur and his knights watched from a dark alcove. But Merlin could sense Arthur was not surprised by their love for one another, just saddened by his duty.

Another burst of light and Morgana was dying. Arthur's hand was holding the sword and she was trying to speak, but her magic and her voice were no longer meant for this world.

Then Merlin was burning just like in his dream, the smoke choking his breath and filling his lungs and eyes and hair. The skin on his arms was curling away from his bones.

"No! I don't want to see this. Show me what happens if I hide my magic, keep it secret!" Words left his mouth in a voice that was not his own, in a language he didn't speak. The light was red like blood and it filled the room. His eyes burned in a continuous gold as magic flowed through him. It echoed from the crystal back into him. From him into the crystal. In the crystal's surface fireballs streaked through the sky like falling stars and Camelot was burning. Burning. Merlin peered harder, forcing his will onto the crystal, desperate to catch a glimpse of hope.

The crystal went dark. Merlin bowed his head, exhausted. He had his answer.

If he choose to make Arthur forget then he would change the future. But he would be blind to his path.


	3. Chapter 3: Playing with Fire

Arthur lorded over Merlin with a smirk as he scrubbed the castle floors on his hands and knees. He loudly crunched on an apple as he and his knights watched Merlin work. Percival looked on with some sympathy, but the other men were stomping around where he'd already mopped when they thought he wasn't looking.

"At least it's better than the stocks," Arthur offered. "Or hanging."

"Not with you here, it isn't," Merlin countered, head bent. He appreciated his sentence being commuted to menial labor, but if only Arthur would take his knights and leave for five minutes he could use a bit of magic to get the worst of the grime.

"So what were you really doing in the vaults?" Arthur asked. "And don't say you were sleep walking, because you weren't."

Merlin threw his rag into the bucket of water and stood up. He pointed a finger at Arthur's chest, opened his mouth, then changed his mind. Percival was looking on with open curiosity.

"Nothing," he decided, kneeling down again.

"Suit yourself," Arthur replied, and tossed his half eaten apple into the mop bucket, splashing up water everywhere. Merlin pat at his damp shirt and face, glaring up at a laughing Pervical.

That night he waited on Arthur at dinner. It was an ordinary meal. The quiet between Uther and his son filled the dining hall. The goblets of wine were soon depleted and each bite was awkwardly taken in complete silence until Arthur waved his fingers absently at Merlin, Merlin thrust the water pitcher into Gwen's hands with relief. His fatigued arms could barely hold the jug. With a scrape of his chair and a quick bow the prince departed for his quarters with his manservant close behind.

"Make sure the bath's hot this time," Arthur called from behind a changing screen.

"Onhaete pa waeter," Merlin said absently, channeling into the cold water. Arthur's head emerged slowly from behind the screen.

"Did you..." he started, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You didn't just..."

"Oh, what does it matter?" Merlin snapped. "I know that you know. You know that I know that you know."

Arthur walked over to lay a hand on his shoulder. "It matters because until I am king magic is against the law in Camelot."

"Oh, so I suppose I should stop using it to save your life?" Merlin muttered.

"You should use it carefully and when needed to do good. _Not_ to heat up bath water. You really are an idiot," Arthur said as he stepped into the water. "Oh, but that's nice." He sighed and closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the tub.

"But how will I know? Sometimes I think I'm making the right choice but things don't turn out how I plan. I can't believe we're having this conversation..." Merlin began picking up the prince's discarded clothing for washing. He'd thrown most of it on the floor, but his shirt was hanging haphazardly over the changing screen.

"My armor needs polishing," Arthur pointed to the tarnished metal on the desk. "We could talk about that. Or my room - it's a mess. Look, Merlin, I have to make decisions every day that affect the lives of my people. You do the best with what you've got, admit when you've made a mistake, and learn from it. That's all any of us can do."

Merlin paused in his chores, his face lighting up with a grin. It quickly turned sour as Arthur continued,

"Besides, you're a servant. What decision could you be worried about making?"

Merlin lay the clothes gently on the bed before turning to Arthur, who lay completely relaxed, eyes closed, in his oversized bath while a warm fire crackled in a hearth piled high with freshly chopped wood. Even with dishes and clothes lying dirty about the chambers there was an ambience that spoke of wealth. It was in the linens, the furniture, even in the stained glass windows.

"You care about the people of Camelot. I know you do," Merlin said quietly. "So if I told you the horrors I've seen, the senseless death and destruction, you'd want to stop it."

Arthur opened his eyes and sat up, sloshing water onto the floor. "What do you mean? What are you talking about, Merlin?"

"You. Gwen. Morgana. Gaius. Everyone we know. Everyone we love. Dead." Merlin could see Arthur wince with each familiar name. "Unless I make this decision."

There was an uncomfortable silence as Merlin stared down at his hands, unsure how to continue. So much of what he knew came from magic and foresight. It wasn't something Arthur would like or even understand. The words of a trusted friend, someone you were willing to die for, they were worth their own weight. And so Merlin used that bond as he tried to explain the choice that lay before them both.

"You are destined to be a great king with a powerful sorcerer at your side. Don't think that my skills are insignificant. I was born with this ability. Just as you were born into royalty. I can't help it." Merlin spoke softly and sincerely.

"I didn't know that was possible. To be born with magic," Arthur said.

"Uther has driven magic out of Camelot and seeks to destroy all who wield it. Maybe it had no where else to go."

They spoke as friends, not servant and master, talking until the fire was low and Merlin had to add more kindling. The night grew long as they remembered past adventures and Merlin retold his role in them.

"When you drank the poison from the chalice and I had to find the morteus flower, there was a ball of light. It guided me out of the caves. Was that you?"

"It might have been. Our destinies have been linked since before our birth. Ha! Even when I'm dying I'm saving your life. "

Arthur combed his fingers through his blond hair, considering.

"Merlin, this must have been a difficult burden to carry. I'm sorry if I made that harder than it needed to be. But you could have told me - should have trusted me."

"It's Uther I don't trust. You've shown yourself to be different from him in so many ways. And you'll be a better king for it."

"What does it matter if it all leads to war? The future you saw, it isn't the one I pictured either," Arthur stood up suddenly. "I don't think any one man should know all the secrets the future might hold. Do it."

"Really? Are you sure?" Merlin asked. Arthur nodded.

"Yes, and I think you are, too. You can always change your mind and tell me. Again. Just remember you can trust me."

Merlin rolled back his sleeves.

"And Merlin, only for good."

Merlin nodded impatiently, "Anything else?"

"Yes, thank you. For saving my life. And being a true friend."

Merlin took Arthur's hands in his and held them tight. He held the hands of his master, his king, and his friend. For this brief moment in time, there were no secrets between them.

"Veritatem in somnio vidi. Obliviscimini! Obliviscimini dolorem quem in somnio sensistis!"

Arthur threw his head back and gasped. Merlin held tight to his hands as they danced and jerked beneath his own. And when the spell was complete Arthur collapsed onto the bed in a deep sleep. Merlin wiped the tears from his eyes as he quickly collected the prince's dirty clothes and soiled armor.

The walk back to the hut was cold and lonely. He expected to find Gaius snoring in his bed, but the old man was bent over a small fire and waiting for him as he opened the door.

"It's done," Merlin replied. The words were lost beneath a deafening roar. The castle walls shook and groaned with the sound. Bells rang out in warning as the pair rushed outside. The sky was lit with red flames and smoke. Merlin's heart fell.

_Did I change anything, or just doom us all?_

"What's happening?" asked Gaius. "Is that the Great Dragon? Why would he be attacking Camelot? Merlin, what spell did you use to make Arthur forget you had magic?"

"I don't know! Why does it matter?" Merlin asked. He ran his hands through his hair, then stared up in horror as Kilgarrah passed over them, fire pouring from his snout.

"Quick, boy! Show me!" Gaius demanded. They ran back inside to Merlin's spellbook. Merlin flipped through desperately, then pointed.

"Here, it was this one," Merlin said.

"Merlin, do you realize what you've done? This isn't a spell any sorcerer can use. It says this is used to turn truth into a dream. To change reality thus a price must be paid!"

Outside people were running in the streets. The panic was spreading as flames leapt from the thatch roofs. Gaius began gathering supplies into his satchel.

"We must get to the castle. There will be injured," Gaius intoned.

"Gaius, what was the price?" Merlin asked as they raced up the cobbled stones to the great gates.

"By changing the future this way you've taken Kilgarrah's gift of foresight. Dragons are a special kind of creature. They don't see the present as we do. If he can no longer see the future, then he must live in the past. And there's only one thing he wants after twenty years of imprisonment."

"Revenge," Merlin whispered. "What can we do? Will he regain his foresight?"

"It's difficult to say. Few have the power you do and also consort with dragons. But in time, yes - I believe he will regain his ancient abilities. It's in his blood as much as it's in yours. In the meantime I think we'd better convince Uther to find Balinor."

The pair raced up the steps and into the stronghold.


End file.
